


The Enamel Heart

by BrightRiver



Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon - Book, Character Death, Cheating, Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, I'm Bad At Summaries, Not Beta Read, Please Don't Hate Me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:41:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28396314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightRiver/pseuds/BrightRiver
Summary: “Before he could move two paces a familiar voice echoed across the room. A burst of applause was followed by a sweet sing-song laugh, then more applause. He did not need to see the red hair, or her face, to know it was Anne.Gilbert could admit honestly Anne had rarely crossed his mind in the last four years. He had moved on from her rejection, funnelled the sadness into his school work that led to many achievements. Truthfully he was a happy man. He told Charlie Sloane that if it weren't for Anne turning him down  the Cooper Prize wouldn't have been won so easily and the dream of medical school would have only been a dream. Just as Gilbert was about to take a step back to leave Anne looked up catching his eye.”----Estranged friends Anne and Gilbert have not seen each other since their Redmond Convocation. A chance meeting in Toronto four years later will set off a series of events that will change their lives forever.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Christine Stuart, Royal "Roy" Gardner/Anne Shirley
Comments: 23
Kudos: 45





	1. A trip to Eatons

**Author's Note:**

> I started 'The Enamel Heart' on the "other" ff site in 2016 and am hauling it here to make me finish it.
> 
> This fic follows book canon with references to conversations and incidents. Everything happened up until Convocation in particular the description below. Gilbert never contracted typhoid.
> 
> \----
> 
> "When Anne dressed for it she tossed aside the pearl beads she usually wore and took from her trunk the small box that had come to Green Gables on Christmas day. In it was a thread-like gold chain with a tiny pink enamel heart as a pendant. On the accompanying card was written, “With all good wishes from your old chum, Gilbert.” Anne, laughing over the memory the enamel heart conjured up the fatal day when Gilbert had called her “Carrots” and vainly tried to make his peace with a pink candy heart, had written him a nice little note of thanks. But she had never worn the trinket. Tonight she fastened it about her white throat with a dreamy smile.
> 
> She and Phil walked to Redmond together. Anne walked in silence; Phil chattered of many things. Suddenly she said,
> 
> “I heard today that Gilbert Blythe’s engagement to Christine Stuart was to be announced as soon as Convocation was over. Did you hear anything of it?”
> 
> “No,” said Anne.
> 
> “I think it’s true,” said Phil lightly.
> 
> Anne did not speak. In the darkness she felt her face burning. She slipped her hand inside her collar and caught at the gold chain. One energetic twist and it gave way. Anne thrust the broken trinket into her pocket. Her hands were trembling and her eyes were smarting." Anne of the Island

**PART 1**

**August, 1891**

The crosswalk on Queen Street West was as the saying goes busy like Piccadilly Circus. Not that Gilbert Blythe could account for the crowds of Piccadilly Circus, as he had not yet gone beyond the gentle shores of Canada. While he sometimes dreamt of crossing the great Atlantic ocean to walk in lands he read fastidiously through his youth, these dreams never included manoeuvring through throngs of people.

On one side of the street a building loomed with its signage - Eatons. Behind him a similar building bellowed the title of Simpsons. Both stores selling the exact same goods, in the same style, and manner. Each entry was flanked by men ready to open doors for eager cliental wanting to empty their purses in exchange for something vogue. It was the exact reason why Gilbert was there. Truthfully the trek to what felt like the clogged arteries of Toronto was not made of his own choice rather it was done under gentle instruction of his wife.

His own town of Amherst, Nova Scotia was smaller than Toronto. While it did not have a rambunctious pedestrian like Toronto's Yonge Street, it felt like the town could one day soon. Constructions were springing up like the shoots of flowers, new endeavours built on dreams and wishes. Amherst was full of promise and prosperity. The hyped up atmosphere was at times draining, but it did provide handsome Gilbert Blythe with a robust business as a doctor. A growing parade of upper middle class individuals filled his list of patients. They hung on every word of advice he made bragging to anyone when he made a visit. Some of Amherst complained he was too confident and cocky. This was usually whispered behind closed doors by those not able to get onto his patient list.

When the move to Amherst had been decided Gilbert was anything but confident. The prospect of having to establish himself was daunting. It hung like a dark cloud during the early visits to his fiancee's hometown. Over time the cloud retreated with the help of kind words from his sweetheart and the known truth her family was part of high social standing. He was not a fool. Gilbert comfortably aware that association would help. Once they were married in the Anglican Church where his wife's grandfather Edward Barron Chandler a noted politician was baptised, Gilbert's standing in the town was sealed.

He never dreamed living across the Northumberland Strait would be his fate in life. The rail journeys between the Island and mainland always passed through Amherst. Most of the time he rarely knew the train had stopped to pick up passengers for he had always been chatting away nonsensical with the rest of the crew heading back to Redmond College or to their Island home. It wasn't until after graduation from his B.A, and the beginning of his medical degree in Kingsport, that the town of Amherst became more than a mark on the map.

For three years the stretch of railway between Kingsport and his fiancees home town was a worn passage. The last Saturday of each month he would travel the distance alighting on the station platform with a sense that he should keeping moving until he arrived at his Island. He never did and his visits to Avonlea became less and less.

The door into Eaton’s was opened for him. Gilbert looked around feeling slight overwhelm by the scene. A sprawling space of opulence and opportunity laid out in such a manner that one could not stand still, and he began walking looking from counter to counter. A young woman dressed in black approached him offering assistance. Gilbert quickly identified the staff form the customers, their simple dress almost made them disappear amongst the pops of colour and rich fabrics worn by the customers. He handed her the page from the Eaton catalogue and with a quick nod Gilbert was guided to the far side of the room where the jewellery cabinets were.

When Gilbert mentioned to his wife an old professor invited him to attend a medical conference in Toronto she did not bat an eyelid. The only mention of his trip came with the request for a pendant to match her engagement ring. She circled the pendant in the catalogue telling her husband that it would take longer by mail.

Her engagement ring was shopped for in the same way with her circling the style of ring, filling out an order form and handing it to Gilbert. He joked at the time she was lucky he was on a scholarship. Even now this new pendant was going to mean more hours at work and less at home. If she was unhappy with a husband constantly away, he never knew.

He had wanted to buy her engagement ring in Carmody from a man known for selling well priced but also well made rings. Stones of emeralds, rubies and diamonds were fitted with care into bands of gold. But his speciality was pearls from the island, made of sand and sea. Gilbert thought it would have been romantic to have something made near his hometown as a token of his love. Instead, it was to be Eatons.

As Gilbert began to pay for his wife's new jewel a sound of applause erupted from somewhere in the building. Glancing of his shoulder he watched people moving towards the staircase. Once his transaction was over the store woman bided him a good day and hurried towards the crowd. Having completed his errand Gilbert was eager to remove himself from the scurry of people.

Before he could move two paces a familiar voice echoed across the room.

A burst of applause was followed by a sweet sing-song laugh, then more applause.

He did not need to see the red hair, or her face, to know it was Anne.

She stood at the bottom of a marble stair case addressing the crowd of people. Her attire was like something from Eatons; a dress made of rich purple velvet hugged the bone coloured blouse with a dramatic frilled collar. A matching purple velvet hat sat atop coiffed hair in the latest fashion. Gilbert had not seen Anne since Convocation four years ago. He had never returned to Avonlea during the summer after their final year of studies. Choosing to remain in Kingsport where he could earn a decent wage.

Gilbert could admit honestly Anne had rarely crossed his mind in the last four years. He had moved on from her rejection, funnelled the sadness into his school work that led to many achievements. Truthfully he was a happy man. He told Charlie Sloane that if it weren't for Anne turning him down the Cooper Prize wouldn't have been won so easily and the dream of medical school would have only been a dream..

Just as Gilbert was about to take a step back to leave Anne looked up catching his eye. Gilbert wished he had gone into Simpsons instead of Eatons, now he felt obliged to stay.

Anne continued to read but her concentration had been disrupted, like a leaf ripped from its tree during an unexpected gust. The visit to Eatons was rudimentary nothing out of the ordinary. It had never crossed her mind that she would see an old friend amongst the crowd. She could feel Owen Ford was looking at her with unease aware of her slip up. This was the third recitation she had given in two days, the other two were flawless displays.

The recitation ended with a long ovation. The clerks organised eager fans into a line for Anne to meet. She would glance up occasionally checking to see if Gilbert was still there.

He stood to the side watching the scene unfold as Anne greeted the crowd. She was polite, warm, engaging, leaving each person with a small spring in their step. He was not surprised to see the effect, it was a practised charm she had since childhood. No matter who met her, they were doomed to fall for her.

The last of the crowd departed leaving a clear path to where he stood. Anne looked over her shoulder towards Owen. She saw he was busily talking to a gentlemen deciding now would be a good time to sneak over to Gilbert before she was pulled off to some other meeting. When she turned to face Gilbert, he was flicking through her book. She suddenly felt small, nervous, biting on her lip wondering if he approved.

“What good fate has brought you to Toronto so that we may run into one another?” Anne asked as she removed the book from his hands, “did you come to buy my book?”

She was greeted with a large smile, his dark eyes softening as they met her own. “I don't know, but it is nice to see you Miss published author.” He had not changed much, except his hair. There was not much curl left. Instead it was smoothed down, looking more like a business man than the rugged Island boy she remembered him as.

“A Canadian agent wrote to me last year asking if I would like to compile a series I wrote for the Womens Home Journal into a book.” She looked back at Owen. “An honour, but with it comes a rather exhausting tour of meeting and greeting. Do you live in Toronto? Last I heard you were in Amherst.”

Gilbert felt a lump in his throat bewildered she kept up with him. “Not, not Toronto. This city is too big and crowded for me. Amherst is the largest city I can stand. I am here for a medical conference.”

“Excuse me Anne, I hate to disturb you.”

“This is Mr. Blythe, a very old friend whom I have not seen for some time. We grew up together. Mr Blythe, this is Mr. Ford my agent.”

“Lovely to meet you. Nice to see both of you got off the Island.” Owen said shaking his hand.

“Are you of the Island too?” asked Gilbert.

“No, though I do have ties there. It's nice for a visit, but can be a bit of a bore. Anne, your driver is here to take you back to the hotel. I have an appointment, then we will meet for supper? Gilbert if you are not busy, you should come dine with us.”

Anne turned to Gilbert, smiling jubilantly at Owen's suggestion. “Yes, please come Gilbert, it would be lovely to have you. It's been too long.”

Her head was tilted, familiar large grey eyes crinkled from her smile, pale eyebrows raised in excitement. There was no sign on her face that said she was not inviting him out of politeness. He wondered if his own face betrayed the apprehension he felt. Unable to think of an excuse, Gilbert agreed.


	2. Dinner with Anne

**PART 1**

**August, 1891**

The hotel was grand. Far removed from the simple boarding house Gilbert was staying at. Bright, electric lights bounced off the silver and white wallpaper making the foyer glisten like the inside of a fresh pearl. To the left people sat talking on sofas large ferns and palms proudly placed amongst the crowd, an elevator door opened and closed between the common area and a sweeping staircase on the right.

“I will admit that an elevator is just as thrilling as it looks.” Anne had snuck up beside him. “Mr. Ford is seated already.” she gave him her arm “Shall we?”

There had been a time when Gilbert would have crawled over hot stones to have the privilege of escorting Anne into a room. Whenever the chance arose, his body would be a fit of nerves and excitement.

He caught himself trying to steal a glance at her, a worn habit from years gone by. She would always hold her head high, chin pointed up, proudly surveying the room as they entered, never paying attention to Gilbert. This time he was surprised to find her stealing a glance at him. Her cheeks blossomed in a blush, a meek smile on her lips, having been caught in the act. Gilbert wondered if she was nervous.

The time spent between their chance meeting that afternoon and now had not played too much on Gilbert's mind. The minute he left Eatons Gilbert made up his mind to not think much of tonight. His presence was only out of politeness. After all they had barely spoken since his pathetic proposal. He had tried in vain to rescue any sort of fragments that remained of their friendship at the time but she had none of it. Gilbert was the one who would continue to visit Patty's Place trying to be the friend she wanted. His heart still stinging from the rejection coupled with the subsequent knowledge Anne was spending time with a man that filled out her every romantic ideal. Anne made little effort in return. She never went out of her way to mend the bridge of friendship that he had apparently ruined. He even tried sending an enamel heart one Christmas which was met with a simple thank you note. And even his congratulatory flowers she wore to the graduation ceremony were met with refusal when he asked her to dance at the reception after.

The foyers opulence dimmed upon entering the dinning room. Amherst had it's grand dinning halls, as did Kingsport, but neither matched this. The electric lights buzzed amongst the busy chatter of the seated gusts. At the far end was a stage where a piano player was tapping away a lazy tune.

Owen stood to shake his hand revealing his elegant attire. Gilbert suddenly felt very underdressed.

It was only when Gilbert sat down did he let his eye wander over Anne. He admitted that age had not been unkind, Anne was still as iridescent as ever. She glowed like she had stolen all the electric light from each globe in the room. The thick velvet dress had been replaced for a gold gossamer gown showing off her slender arms and porcelain skin. Her chin was resting atop of her hand as she gazed about the room. One of her usual mannerisms he'd seen time and time again.

Owen quizzed Gilbert about what food he might like, then with a wave a waiter appeared taking their orders.

“Anne tells me you are a doctor based in Amherst. What brings you to Toronto?”

“I arrived in Toronto three days ago for a medical conference. A routine affair really. It finished this afternoon actually. I'll return on Friday leaving tomorrow wide open,to see something other than conference halls and Eatons I hope.” Gilbert replied.

The conversation moved to the Island and Owen's link. Owen explained his great grandmother came from Four Winds a port town to the East. Her old home is in now his possession having recently purchased it from the church. Gilbert surprised him by admitting he knew the house from visits to the area after medical school. His uncle Dave was the doctor at Glen St Mary a position he almost took over himself but he could not sway his wife to move to the Island.

“It is a merry town. The house would be good for me to hide away in, maybe try writing something myself,” Owen said wistfully. “If you ever care to holiday there I will happily rent you the house. Are you married?”

Gilbert nodded with a smile. “Yes, I am. It's why I was at Eatons actually. I was buying my wife a belated wedding anniversary gift.”

“How is Christine?” Anne had been quite, listening to the mens conversation. The last few days involved non stop talking that she was happy to sit and listen. But she was eager to know about Gilbert's life. It was the first time Gilbert had spoken to Anne about his wife. She had her heard snippets from Diana through letters, from Phil also. They did not move in the same social circles through university, leaving her opinion of Christine vague. In Diana's letters Gilbert sounded content.

“She is well and in good spirits,” Gilbert said. “I have not asked how your husband is? Is he in Toronto also?”

Anne shook her head, “No, he is in the West Indies. Roy left two months before I sailed here. He sounds well in his letters, occupied with the business as usual.”

“Sailed? I thought you would have settled in Kingsport, not the West Indies,” Gilbert asked confused.

“I sailed from London. We settled there after our marriage. At least for now.” Anne looked perplexed. “I thought you would have known that?”

Gilbert shrugged his shoulders, “Sorry, I have not kept up.” By the look on her face he wondered if she was upset he had not kept up with her. He rarely wrote to anyone from Avonlea days or even the old circle they shared at Kingsport. “I don't get back to Avonlea much and Mother's arthritis has affected her hands. She can't write too much anymore and dad has never been much for correspondence. He will talk on the t'phone if I call, but mostly about the farm.”

“I admit that I have not been back to Avonlea for some time either,” sighed Anne. “But I am travelling there in two days, to surprise Marilla, before I sail back. ”

They began to talk of Avonlea, Anne filling him in with the bits of gossip she has collected. Old stories and familiar jokes were retold. The old fluidity of their former friendship seeped back through the cracks.

As they talked Gilbert noticed a demureness about Anne. There was a lack of loudness in her words. She would hide a laugh behind her hand. He wondered if this smallness was driven by the presence of Mr. Ford.

As the dessert plates were collected the piano player was accompanied by a larger band.

“I hate to interrupt,” Owen said. “but I am going to excuse myself before this place becomes too busy. You watch Gilbert, this floor will begin to fill up with most of Toronto.” He stood up, stretching his hand out to Gilbert. “It was lovey to meet you.” Gilbert went to stand up too, “No, you do not have to leave because I am going. Stay and talk to Anne.”

Anne rose, “It is late, I should go.”

“Tomorrow is your day off remember. You should go to the beach before leaving Toronto. Take Gilbert, if he is free. I have to be at the office, otherwise I would love to take you both. I promise it is not as busy as this place, unless it's hot, then it very well could be.”

The three walked out of the dinning hall. Gilbert stood to the side as Owen said goodbye to Anne, exchanging business formalities. As he walked away, Anne turned to Gilbert, “What do you say? Care for a trip to Toronto’s beaches tomorrow?”


	3. Gilbert Speaks

**PART 1**

**August, 1891**

Anne hired a driver to take them to Toronto beach much to Gilbert's reluctance. They had bickered the night before over how they would arrive. A short walk from Anne's hotel was a street car pickup. Gilbert pointed out this option would be more affordable while adding a sense of adventure. Anne persisted that she could afford to hire him comfortable transport, there wold be no need to stand around waiting or for Gilbert to spend too much money. Gilbert finally relented when she stated that a women should not be seen inside a street car. He smiled thanking her for the generosity. Inside Gilbert was agitated. What Anne truly admitted was that a woman of her standing should not be seen in a street car reminding him of her status.

The money wasn't the only reason for the streetcar. He had thought it would allow Anne to relax let go of this gaudy show she had on. Invoking the old days, when they had no money and would happily loll about people watching. Wonder what people were reading, imagining conversations between them, or sometimes poking fun at the passers by. Anne would have struck up a conversation with someone, possibly a mother with a small child. There used to be a lot of laughter, golden laughter that bounced off everything. Her head thrown back, right hand on her chest. No one ever laughed like Anne did.

Instead, she sat upright poised like a statue. The conversation moved back and fourth, covering subjects of architecture and literature. While Anne sat perched forward Gilbert relaxed into the plush seat of the carriage, affording himself to view his companion. She wore a tailored ivory suit, covered with small periwinkle blue floral embellishments. A line of buttons traced from the top of her neck, following the spine to halfway down her back. Her head was adorned with a wide brimmed hat that matched the dress. Everything was coordinated, right down to her white parasol. As they rode on through the streets, he wondered about the Anne he first laid eyes on. The scruffy skinny orphan girl who was all limbs; did she ever imagine tailors would be making her clothes, fancy hotels would be the norm, expensive carriages at her disposal.

They arrived at the beach, both of them looking at one another with eyebrows raised as they walked to the boardwalk. “It's hard to call this a beach, don't you agree?” asked Anne.

Gilbert shook his head, “Compared to the ones in our youth, no it's not a true beach. Are the beaches of Lake Ontario worth the visit then?”

Anne smiled, gazing out dreamily towards the water, “It was. At least I can say I got to see one of the must visit places in Toronto when I write to Mr. Ford.” She cast her eyes over the scene, reminding Gilbert of the endless moments he would watch her become enveloped in the natural beauty of the world, hoping that she would not move and he could stay watching her forever. She had the same effect at dinner last night, until she did something so out of character that made him remember that he might not know Anne anymore and how much she had changed.

“Seeing Lake Ontario makes me miss the ocean. There is something soothing about being close to it. Shall we take a turn on the pier?”

Anne nodded, opening her parasol as they began walking.

“I could not agree with you more.” Anne replied. “But at least Amherst is closer to a salty sea than London. How is life in Amherst? Do you practice privately or at an infirmary?”

“Privately. It is good work. I have a steady stream of patients. It's not what I imagined when I began. I had hoped, to be helping those less fortunate. But Christine's family has some standing in the old town. Before I knew it, these people were my patients.”

“Sounds like you are doing what you hoped to do, helping fight disease, pain and ignorance.”

Gilbert remembered the conversation she was referring too. “Yes, but not the honest, real work I'd imagined. The town's working community is growing, and I hope to be down there helping soon. And it sounds like you are adding beauty to people's lives with your writing. ”

“I hope so.”

Anne then pointed towards a large building “that I am guessing is our destination for lunch, Scarboro's Heights Hotel. Shall we?” Gilbert nodded politely, as they walked towards the popular lakeside social location.

Mr. Ford was right, a hot day would see many people by the beach and the other half were in the dinning hall at the lakeside hotel. It was similar to the dinning halls he would frequent with Christine and her family. He rarely went to dinner or lunch without her family. Christine would openly display her annoyance at having them close by all the time, regularly joking that they should move to Kingsport or better yet, run away out West.

Before either of them looked at their menus a familiar face presented himself in front of Gilbert. Knowing instantly who it was Gilbert stood up to shake his hand.

“Terrance Bonair, what a surprise this is.”

The young man nodded, nervously looking around for his superior. Gilbert noticing his caution understood and sat down. “It sure is a surprise, Mr. Blythe.”

“I think you can freely call me Gilbert now since I am no longer your teacher. What brought you from White Sands to Toronto?”

Terrance began pouring water into their glasses, while speaking about how he ended up in Toronto to take his bachelors. During summer he supplemented his time and income, with tutoring and waiting tables.

Gilbert in turn told his own short story, covering his studies and why he was in Toronto. He did not mention his marriage to Christine. When Terrance said “It is nice to see you married Miss Shirley,” with a smile in her direction, it was met with an irritated look from Anne.

Terrance realising the mistake he made, went to pick up the water jug he had on the table, accidentally knocking Anne's full glass, splashing water.

“Is this man bothering you?” came the voice from another waiter, who looked to be higher in rank.

“Yes he is,” said Anne sharply rising to her feet abruptly.

Apologies were exchanged and tables were swapped for a dry one. Gilbert was relieved when lunch arrived, the encounter between Anne and Terrance confused him. His old friend Anne would have been sympathetic, laughing at the spill on the table. Her dislike did not go unnoticed to the maitre'd, removing Terrance from the floor. Gilbert wondered throughout the lunch if his old pupil would be employed by the end of the day. He knew how expensive university was.

After lunch they had decided to walk towards Kew Gardens following the boardwalk along the beach. Gilbert wanted to say something about her over-reaction. He was surprised when Anne made mention of Terrance and if he would still have a job by the end of the day.

“I didn't mean to turn like that, having him removed from the floor.” Anne sighed. “I was only annoyed because he asked if we were married. I suppose it bought up the memories from when we were young. I used to find it so cumbersome that everyone would remark about you and me, pushing for us to be engaged or something.”

Gilbert couldn't help but laugh. “I learnt very quickly after my proposal how unsuitable you found me and that the idea of marriage between us angered you. What a fool I was to not have seen it.”

She stopped, turning to face him “I wasn't angry because you were not a suitable man to marry, you were - more than you could know. I felt like our friendship was under a magnify glass everyday. No one would talk to me without mentioning you – I felt like – like I was living in a shadow of expectation.”

He paused, unsure how to respond. Anne's grey eyes, were hidden by a shadow from her hat brim. Her words had stirred something within him, the whispers of unspoken words and questions began to fill his mind. Had they been away from the Avonlea gossip and Redmond chitchat, would Anne have answered differently? Did he speak too soon?

Gilbert stepped away to look out towards the lake, summoning the hurtful behaviour Anne invoked after his proposal. She all but cleared him out of her life after that day.

“I suppose we both had some living and learning to do, neither of us were ready” Gilbert added.

“What do you mean?”

Gilbert continued walking, “You are correct, the constant suggestions we should have married were suffocating at times. I imagine it was the gossip of our dear old Avonlea and fellow Redmond students that put the idea into my head in the first place.” Gilbert knew he hurt her saying that. He felt a small triumph in the thought that his words wounded Anne. “We bickered so much. In retrospect it would not have been a romantic match i'm sure. Like you said, it would have been for expectation only, not for love.”

They walked on in silence. Gilbert felt torn by his last comment. Part of him felt like she deserved it. The satisfaction of telling her it was never love that took him to Patty Place that afternoon left a satisfactory yet bitter taste in his mouth. He had hoped to see Anne put on her steel glaze, tilt her chin up, the way she did when she was hurt and angry. Instead her gaze was cast down. There was no rebuke, only regrettable silence.

When she first refused him he had many conversations in his head with her telling Anne exactly this. In each exchange she would be rilled up, challenging him. He scribbled letters that never made it past his desk. But he imagined the return note he would receive. The reaction he was drowning in now was never a scenario that passed through his mind.

“Is Mr. Ford married?” asked Gilbert, looking for a way to move the subject away from them.

“No, he is not. I tell him that he is too particular about the woman he wants.”

“I don't think there is anything wrong with that. Why should a man settle?”

“Maybe the ideal we think we want, is not always our best match.”

The entrance to the garden was a welcome relief from the August sun. Anne dropped her parasol, letting it dangle from her hand. She stopped for a moment, gazing at the trees around her. The park was as bustling as the beach, with families congregating where the grass met the boardwalk. Blankets laid out, children running across them met with cry's from mothers.

“I have not asked if you have children?”

“No, not yet.”

When she asked him back, he replied with the same answer. He had hoped to have started a family by now. He had expected Anne would be mother to a handful of babies by now.

“I haven't the time,” muses Anne as she leads them through the park as if she knows it. “Plus Roy is busy with his business.”

“Yes, I suppose the famous author Mrs. Gardner and her husband Mr. Gardner the shipping tycoon cannot afford maids and nannies to help with a family,” say's Gil sarcastically.

Anne knocked her parasol against his arm playfully, “I didn't write my stories under Mrs. Gardner, my pen name is still Shirley.”

They had wondered beyond the path, crossing past beds of flowers. A dense collection of trees sat together, creating a secluded corner in the park.

“Do you know what this reminds me of Gil?” Gilbert shakes his head, looking around. “That place where the apple tree grows, deep in the woods.”

“That apple tree always reminded me of you, from the moment I first saw it. I thought how it had come to life amongst the darkness of the forest, determined to do well. The earth was Green Gables. The sun and rain were Mathew and Marilla, helping you grow towards the light.”

Anne turned to look at him, “Really?”

Gilbert nodded. “Something silly I used to think.”

“If Green Gables was the soil, Matthew and Marilla were the sun and rain. What were you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You helped me thrive, grow. Even though we bickered from time to time, disagreed on some subjects, I valued you more than anyone. You were a true friend and I have missed you dearly.”

The light from the sun shot through the trees, casting long streams of light. One lit up her face, highlighting the freckles that rested there. She looked earnestly at him, causing the whispers of wonder to circulate once more in Gilbert's mind. He looked away, willing the thoughts to vanish.

“I will admit that I had not missed you at all until we walked into the Gardens. This Anne I have met is very different to the one I used to know. But then we have not been around each other since – well – I guess that silly day at Patty's Place. I only came along to dinner last night out of politeness.”

“And what about today?”

Gilbert shrugged his shoulders, looking at the trees as if he were bored. “Much the same, I said yes out of niceness, nothing more. You and I are of different worlds now, we have little in common really.”

Anne stepped back, looking for the path. “Very well Gil-”

“You think you are too good, more now than you used to. Even you admitted that you could not be seen on street car. The very thought of being close to the people that are at the level of your servants abhors you.”

Anne opened her mouth, as if to say something, then closed it again. Gilbert watched defeat come over her face. Any spirit and fire that had rose up, retreated.

“I think it is wise if I return to my hotel,” Anne replied in a quite voice. “You don't need to accompany me back,” she says as if reading his mind. “You are free of me. It was good to see you, even if you did it only as a courtesy. I wish you all the best Gil, I truly do.”

Not waiting for a reply, Anne walks past Gilbert. He turns and watches her, wondering if she will turn around. As she disappears across the park, he kicks a stone before he goes his own way, feeling like a thirteen year old boy that had a slate knocked on his head.


	4. News from Avonlea

**PART 1**

**August, 1891**

Returning to an unlit house was not uncommon for Gilbert. The housemaid had been informed of his arrival before he departed Toronto. Yet the entrance was pitch black, save the dim glow of street lamps.

The maid was not a choice made by Gilbert, or one he could wholly afford yet. Christine's mother insisted they have someone around, sending help from her house before Gilbert had time to say otherwise.

He moved up the stairs, carrying his body one step at a time. Gilbert found Christine sleeping, her dark hair wound in the accustomed braid draped across the pillow. A thin sheet partially covered her, the open window offering cool relief from the warm night air.

Gilbert carefully placed the present from Eatons at his wife's dresser.

He looked at her, willing himself to crawl into bed. She was beautiful and kind, although sometimes mean with her words when irritated. Often using her beauty to get what she desired. A talent Gilbert was aware of from the moment they met.

The longer he stood watching Christine sleep, the less Gilbert wanted to be laying next to her. Perhaps he was overtired as he found himself unable to rest properly on the train. The journey was spent flitting between the rustling of conference papers and resting his head against the window, willing himself to sleep a little. Neither held his attention long, the unease of which he addressed Anne in the park resurfacing.

He had been unfair. In retrospect she had not done anything wrong. Here he was holding onto a grudge, grown of jealously and inadequacy. He knew full well how it felt to have a petty grudge held against him. Anne had the life that he had always dreamed for her. When he loved her, all that Gilbert wanted to give her was an existence filled of comfort, ease, and safety. Her life was filled to the brim with all he had ever dreamed for her.

Gilbert opened the door to his study. It was organised chaos, papers and books stacked in groups according to patient. Amongst the disorder sat a silver tray, a collection of correspondence sitting on top. He began to sort through it haphazardly, when a telephone message caught his eye.

It was not often his father t'phoned and leaving a message was not common. If ever Gilbert was not in the home to take his call, John Blythe would simply hang up.

_Wednesday 2 August_

_Miss. Marilla Cuthbert passed away._

_J. Blythe_

Gilbert slumped into his chair, reading the note again. It was Friday night. The two day trip from Toronto to Avonlea meant Anne would have arrived Thursday night, learning the same news on her surprise arrival. He recalled the elated enthusiasm lighting up Anne's face as she told him of the plan to surprise Marilla. Her train would have passed through Amherst. No doubt Anne would have been staring out the window, excitedly counting down the minutes until she was driving up the lane to Green Gables.

Memories of afternoons spent hunched over books in the Green Gables dinning room came flooding back to him. Marilla was hard, but sweet in her own way. There was never a doubt how much she loved Anne.

Gilbert listened for the sound of the operator counting the clicks as they passed. The telephone was installed at his parents homestead not long after they visited their son in Amherst. His mother in particular was the one who was sceptical to it, then quickly won over once it had been connected.

"Gilbert, it's late to be calling. I'm guessing you got my note."

He never asked who was calling, always knowing it was his son. "It was sad news to return home too father."

John let out a long breath, "It was a sad day here in Avonlea. The funeral was this afternoon. I guess I feel like part of me past has passed on. Her folks and my folks traveled to the Island together from Norfolk. I remember many a night spent at the Cuthbert's home as children, they were talented musicians and Mr. Cuthbert could turn a fiddle like no one else for miles."

"I didn't know you were so close to the Cuthbert's."

"It's something I had forgotten. Spent so much of my time working and sleeping the last thirty years to dwell on my past. I courted Matilda for a short while when I was a young lad."

"What happened? Does Ma know?"

"Of course she knows. We only courted because we were all we knew. Her Pa was more bad than good, especially to Matthew. There were many a time he'd come to school with a bruise or not at all. Every one knew Mr. Cuthbert was unkind to Matthew, but you never heard a bad word come from his mouth about his father. Matthew soon became a better fiddler than his Pa, and singer too. He was kind, quite, polite and the girls all thought him real handsome. The popularity went from his father to him. Well his father never liked that much and he just set about chipping at his confidence. One afternoon I walked Marilla home, and I saw the way her father spoke to Matthew. He down right would humiliate the boy. I went to go stand up for her brother, but Marilla warned if I did she would not see me again. I realised quick she was not the person for me.

"Ma would have stood up."

"That she would have. Eventually Matthew stopped playing, stopped singing, he retreated into himself. Stopped school and worked on the farm. Real recluse like. I think that's why Marilla stayed by his side once their folks passed away. Like she owed it to Matthew for not protecting him. Mind she softened when Anne came along son, and Matthew got some of that spark back too."

Gilbert rested his forehead against the wall. A distant click was heard before Gilbert could ask if Anne was at the funeral.

"Sounds like someone else has joined the exchange, I'll bid you goodnight." With that John Blythe hung up.


	5. The Apple Tree

**PART 1**

**August, 1891**

The phone call from his father left Gilbert rattled. He had witnessed the melancholy his elderly patients develop as they watched links to their past disappear from the mortal world. John Blythe was never one to ask for his son to come home yet he wondered if the phone call was a white flag.

With a quick kiss and stumbling excuse a family friend passed away Gilbert said goodbye to Christine and left the following day with his still packed travel bag. She never questioned him, likewise he didn't ask her to come. Dr. Homglenn who was covering for him agreed to continue looking after his patients.

He was able to sleep the duration of the ferry ride and connecting train ride to Carmody. His body giving in to the lack of rest from the night before. The train conductor had to shake him awake when the train stopped at Carmody to let off passengers and pick up new ones.

“Gilbert Blythe as I live and breath!”

Gilbert looked towards the ticket office to see Rachel Lynde. She looked smaller and older underneath a black travelling hat to big for her head. Her matching attire was loose on her slumped shoulders. Gilbert begins to think what Marilla would have looked like before she passed. Once upon a time Mrs. Lynde and Miss. Cuthbert were two people no one would want to cross for different reasons, and now the elderly woman before him doesn't look like the energetic person that could run half of Avonlea.

As Gilbert stepped towards Rachel Anne appeared at her side holding a ticket. Rachel had given Annee a nudge pointing in his direction. Gilbert saw Anne's gasp at seeing him and he hoped his body didn't reveal his own shock.

“Good afternoon Mrs. Lynde and Mrs. Gardner.” Gilbert didn't know whether to acknowledge he knew about Marilla's passing or not. Anne's eyes were red from crying, he could tell that much. His heart sank thinking about how excited Anne would have been arriving in Carmody Station days before only to be told her adopted mother had passed away. “My condolences on the passing of Marilla, I'm truly sorry to hear of your loss.”

Mrs. Lyndes eyes narrowed, her nostrils flaring as she sniffed. “I'm not surprised John contacted you. You Blythe's are clannish to the bone.” Rachel said in her most matter of fact voice, her tone alighting that she had more to say on the subject. “Your father is the last of the Norfolk lot save his brother in Brunswick. I'm sure he will be glad to see you, and your mother of course. I didn't see them here though?”

Gilbert shuffled with his bag. “No, they don't know I have arrived. It's a surprise.”

The train whistle sounded helping break the awkwardness the conversation had taken.

“Well that's me. I'm going to double check with the conductor all my luggage is on the train.” Rachel walked towards the office leaving Gilbert alone with Anne.

“Rachel is moving to Moncton now Marilla has passed on. She'll be living with her eldest daughter. I can give you a ride back to Avonlea if you don't have anyone meeting you here.”

Anne didn't wait for a reply as she moved past him to follow Rachel. He stood to the side watching as the two women hugged each other goodbye. Anne stood on the platform watching as the train disappear around the bend.

“You don't have to drive me back, Anne.” Gilbert said as he put his hat on his head. “I don't think I deserve it.”

Anne shrugged her shoulders. “It's of no bother, really.”

Gilbert followed Anne to the buggy helping her climb in then put his bag into the back before taking his seat next to her.

“I'm really sorry you didn't get to surprise Marilla. I know she would have been so happy to see you.”

“Marilla's health had been slowly declining for some time, unbeknownst to me. I feel so stupid for not sending a telegram or a letter. Maybe she would have held on if she had known I was coming home?”

Anne's hands were shaking as she held the reigns. “I'll give you my handkerchief if you give me the reigns. You shouldn't be driving. How about I take you to Green Gables and I'll walk from there.”

Anne nodded, flashing him a smile of thanks. “Your father will be glad to see you. He visited me yesterday to offer his assistance.”

Gilbert's eyebrows rose at this. “Oh yes, with what?”

Anne grimaced recalling the conversation with Mr. Blythe. “From circling Pye's. They are already carving up Green Gables land.”

Gilbert smiled thinking back to what his father said on the phone. “I didn't know the Cuthbert's immigrated to Canada with my Father and his family. They grew up together. Did you know? It's funny, I never knew this. Did you know Matthew was one of the best fiddlers on the Island? I had no idea he could play an instrument.”

Anne turned to meet his gaze. “No, I didn't. But then I'm not surprised we don't know. I guess you get to a point in your life where you stop talking about the past and just let it be.” She said the last part with a big sigh.

Gilbert scanned the road ahead enjoying the familiarity of the surroundings. He had always admired how the rich red roads helped give everything its vivid colour. The smallest blade of grass sitting next to the ruddy earth looked a richer green than anywhere else in Canada. Same with the sky and the ocean. His heart already ached for the day he'd have to travel back across the Straight to the mainland.

“I can't blame the Sloanes. Green Gables is still the prettiest house in Avonlea.” Gilbert pulled on the reins as they entered the long driveway. “I'll put set you down at the porch then put the horses away.”

“Thank you, Gilbert. That would be helpful.” Before Gilbert could get down to help Anne had manoeuvred onto the ground with a small jump.

When Gilbert returned from the barn he found Anne standing at the back door holding it open. “Won't you come in and have a cup of tea. I have to admit being on my own is not appealing.”

A few minutes later Gilbert was seated at the kitchen table looking around at the boxes and crates of a long life packed up. “Everything has already been put away? Where are Davy and Dora?”

“Yes, not that there is much left. Marilla had been selling off furniture here and there. According to Rachel she didn't want to burden me when the time came. Diana is coming around early tomorrow morning to take these remaining boxes and store them for me. I'll stay with her and Fred until it time for me to go. Davy and Dora are remaining in Avonlea with the Andrews family. I feel so sad they have been uprooted again but relieved they are with good friends.”

“When is it that you'll go back to England?”

There was a long pause as Anne shifted around the kitchen. “My ticket is booked in a months time. I could bring it forward but Roy isn't due home for another four months.” She sat down beside him giving a small smile as she slid a bottle of preserved apples towards him. “Do these remind you of anything?”

“I don't think I have eaten preserved apples since Redmond! I don't know if I could eat them again.”

“I agree with you I don't think I could eat them either. But when you are a poor student with farmers for parents this is what we lived off. But the crunch of a fresh apple from the tree will never tire for me. When I first arrived at Green Gables Marilla couldn't understand how many red russet apples I could eat. I never did tell her that any apples I had previously eaten were left over from others and I only ate my first fresh apple here.”

He followed Anne's eyes as she looked out of the window at the orchard beyond. It was too early for the Cuthbert's apples to be ready for picking.

“I bet the tree out past the marsh would have apples. Would you care for a walk to see.”

Anne rose from the table taking the the jar of apple preserves in her hands. Her eyes were still looking out the window while her hands rolled the jar between them.

“I'd like to go.”

Along they went into the warm air of the late August afternoon, the sound of birds making their way to their nests. As they followed the boundary to the edge of the woods the birds chirps were replaced with cicadas. Trees cast shadows across roots and logs. If it wasn't for Anne's hair he thought she could have blended in with the darkness with her black mourning dress. There was no path to follow as they moved past the forest out into the marsh, heading towards stricken pines and a small valley. Alone sat the tree, it's blossoms all but gone and in their place were apples. Anne took off for the tree circling around looking for one at the right height to take. With a leap she took one from the tree, throwing it at Gilbert.

“Hey!” he yelped.

Anne smiled wildly her grey eyes set with mirth “Well you caught it!”

“A doctor relies on his hands. A warning next time.”

Gilbert sat down on the log watching as Anne picked another apple for herself taking a bite before sitting next to Gilbert.

“You never did answer my question the other day. If Green Gables was the soil, Matthew and Marilla were the sun and rain. What part did you play in this trees growth?”

Gilbert stopped eating. He had been looking for an opportunity to apologise for his outburst in Toronto and here it was readily presented to him. “Anne, I want to say sorry for how I spoke to you in Toronto. I don't why I said what I did. It was rude and mean --”

Anne held up her hand. “You were honest. I can't fault you for what you said, perhaps your delivery could have been better. But I do understand why. So much went unsaid between us after you spoke to me at Patty Place.” Anne voice went quite her gaze softening as she looked towards Gilbert in the growing dusk. “One moment we are entangled in each others lives, the next I cast you out and kept you at arms length. As for me changing, well I suppose that happens as we grow and mature. If it makes you feel any better I'm still the same old ridiculous Anne getting into plenty of scrapes. My responses are little more quite and guarded, something a woman becomes good at when she marries. Especially when its into high society.”

Gilbert gave Anne a tight lipped smile understanding what she said. “You tell me what I would have been to this apple tree. I can tell you what I thought I was but I was wrong, remember?”

Anne stood up walking towards the apple tree. She ran her fingers over the trunk humming while looking towards the sky then back down to the earth. “The pine over there is Diana, the tall one, giving me shelter against the wind. The Girls are the grass beneath making sure my soil doesn't rush away. The tree wouldn't bear fruit without bees – you'd be the bees.” Anne was now standing in front of Gilbert looking down at him. The sun had dipped below the horizon colouring everything in a hazy blue. “Without the bees the tree can't make fruit. The bees then make honey with the blossoms. They work well together, like us. Come, we best get back before the mosquitoes get to us.”Anne held out her hand pulling Gilbert up then passed an apple to him. “One for the walk home.”

Gilbert led the way through the woods the best he could in the low light. Anne shared old ghost stories she made up with Diana as a girl laughing with mirth when Gilbert conceded he was feeling a tad uneasy at the intricate details of the childhood tales. The back laneway to the Avonlea graveyard came into view the stone headstones glowing in the moonlight. Anne pulled on Gilberts shirt sleeve slowing him down. “Let's go via the school yard.”

“I see the school house hasn't changed much.”

“You mean not as blue.” mused Gilbert. “Before you arrived in Avonlea I would break into the school at night to set up pranks on Mr. Phillips. I wonder if the spare key is still --” Gilbert walked up to the east side of the building running his fingers under the windowpane. “-- here!” In his hands was a key.

“I should chastise you for breaking in and playing pranks. But Mr. Phillips deserved them.”

“Should we go in for a trip down memory lane?”

“Ok, but hurry!”

With two turns of the key Gilbert pushed the door open letting Anne walk in first. The light of the moon poured through the windows providing enough light to see the rows of desks, a new pot belly stove, a teachers desk, blackboard at the front. Gilbert and Anne walked around slowly meeting childhood memories. Anne found herself at the front of the row of desks opening up a lid. “Glad to see Wordsworth is still being enjoyed in this room.”

Gilbert looked over Anne's shoulder at the page. “ _Surprised by Joy_ , I don't remember that one. I must admit I've always liked the name Joy or Joyce for a girl.”

Anne returned the book into the desk. “Do you remember when you gave me the love heart sweet?”

Gilbert chuckled at the memory. “How could I forget. You crushed it under your boot.”

“I was a haughty child. Walking around this room all I can think about are the memories that make me cringe, especially when I first arrived here.”

Gilbert sat down at a desk in the back of the room. “I think every person that went to school has a cringe worthy story. What about Charlie Sloane spilling a pot of ink on Josie Pye's dress.”

Anne slid in to sit next to him. “She didn't throw a slate over his head, that's for sure. Instead she got two new dresses courtesy of the Sloane's.”

“How would you react now if someone called you Carrots and tugged on a braid?” Gilbert wore a very mischievous smile not to unlike the one he wore the day they first met. Anne scoffed at his question.

“Would you dare get a persons attention in the same way? Perhaps the slate did more damage than I realised. Here let me look to see if there is a permanent scar.” Anne knelt up grabbing his head in her hands rummaging over his head pretending to look. Gilbert squirmed underneath her while laughing at Anne's antics. “Nope, I can't see a scar. Only your ego! My my, it's still as big as ever.” She dropped back in her seat breathless with laughter.

“There's my Anne.” Gilbert replied in a whisper without thinking. His body tensed waiting for Anne to scold him for being soppy and he hoped she didn't misconstrued what he meant even if he did mean it. His eyes had been drifting over her face before settling on Anne's eyes.

She brought a hand to his cheek and Gilbert lent in nuzzling against the comfort of her unexpected touch. The caress bought a smile to Annes face, closing her eyes she let herself feel the ease the action brought. Gilbert's lifted his palm to Anne's cheek mirroring her own, their eyes never leaving each other. Anne tilted her head down moving her cheek against his hand lips kissing his skin. The space between them was shrinking, free hands resting on the table had found their way onto the other person arms bracing as noses touched, lips hovering dangerously close.

The spell was abruptly broken by the patter of feet across the tin roof. Gilbert and Anne dropped their hands, moving back from each other. “Possum?” he queried as he went to stand up.

Anne let out a nervous laugh, her face tingling and she brought her hands to red cheeks. “Yes, possums.” Anne turned her head to look out the window, the moon was high in the sky. “It is late.”

They walked out of the school house locking the door and returning the key. The vibrant chatter that had moved between them was now replaced with silence broken with 'be careful' and 'watch your step' as they made their way to Green Gables. Each of them spinning from the moment in the school house.

They walked through the gate of Green Gables, the house cloaked in darkness. “I'll just get my bag from the kitchen.” Gilbert didn't even look at Anne as he opened the front door.

He picked up his bag from the kitchen, repapering in the hall as Anne was lighting a lamp. Gilbert smiled, reluctantly putting on his hat and walking out the door bidding Anne a good night. Anne closed the door and listened to his footsteps move down the stairs, the gate to the yard clanging shut behind him.

Gilbert looked up at the full moon cursing it like so many people have done before. He blamed it for leading him to Avonlea. He blamed it for suggesting a walk to see the old Apple tree. He blamed it for letting him fall back into wanting Anne.

“Gilbert!” Anne yelled. “Gilbert, wait.”

Gilbert turned around squinting into the dark, the sound of light footsteps on gravel moving closer to him. As she came closer Anne slowed to a walk, her chest rising and falling quickly. She stood in front of him, his face searching hers for an explanation, to understand what she wanted at the apple tree, in the school house, and now standing breathless in front of him. After several seconds that felt more like long drawn out hours Anne stepped forward taking Gilbert's travel case from his hand.

She paused for a moment holding his case by her side then turned around walking back to the house. Gilbert watched from his spot as Anne disappeared past the gate. He heard the door open but it never closed. With his heart beating fast Gilbert let out a nervous breath, then he walked to the front door of Green Gables with his back to the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Did you make it to the end of Part 1? I'll be back soon-ish with the start of Part 2.


	6. Chapter 6

**PART 2**

**May, 1894**

Miss Hettie Stanley closes the door to the bedroom quietly. Taking a step back Hettie's small frame freezes as the floor underneath creaks. She waits for a cry from the other side should the sound have woken the wee person she rocked to sleep. With no sign of stirring Hettie moves carefully making note to avoid the position again.

The stairs are taken slowly black boots tiptoeing down towards the muffled sound of voices in the drawing room. “Mrs. Gardner?”

Three tall women turn around looking at the door where Hettie stands. The first woman to acknowledge her is Rosanna Gardner. Her small eyes and mouth seem to pinch together every time Hettie is in the room. Newly hired Hettie had learned from her Birchgrove House colleagues to ignore the way Mrs. Gardner's face contorts when staff are before her.

Dorothy Gardener turned next, slim and tall like the elderly lady but with a jolly face always smiling. She was dressed in a lighter tone of purple silk to that of her mother. The women in the Gardner family all dressed in shades of purple, and the colour featured throughout the house.

The last woman to look in the direction of Hettie was a red haired woman with an iris complexion and gray eyes that shone brightly in her lavender gown with simmers of green as she moved in the light.

“She's sleeping peacefully,” announced Hettie.

The statuesque woman crossed the room to stand in front of her. “Thank you. An improvement on last night then. She'll be OK with me gone?”

“I'll be sure to sit next door in her nursery until you return should she wake. Now she's walking I imagine she'll sleep a little more soundly too.”

“Of course, the extra movement will help tired her body out.” The woman let out a sigh as she thought about her little girl growing quickly. “Once she gets used to her new surroundings and all the new faces she'll settle easier too. I do appreciate your help.”

The elderly lady cleared her throat indicating to Hettie it was time for her to leave. “I'll see you tomorrow. Enjoy tonight Ma’am.”

“Anne you needn't look worried. Such habits will set wrinkles in your face. I don't know why you held off getting a nanny or how you worked on your writing without one. I had at least two at a time for my children and it served them well.”

Anne smiled cordially at her mother-in-law. She was about to give a reply when Dorothy, her sister in law and favourite of her husbands family, asked after Anne's new book.

“Very well, Mr. Ford wrote me to say me there is a new print run happening already.” Dorothy clapped her hands together smiling jubilantly for her sisters news.

Rosanna sniffed. “Good. We like to here the sales are going well otherwise what's the point.”

Anne turned towards the clock as it chimed, hiding her face so she could roll her eyes at the matriarchs statement.

“Time for us to depart soon. The show will start and I don't wish to be late – where is Roy?”

At Rosanna's question Roy stepped through the door announcing he was ready. He walked over to his mother giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Must we go? I don't particularly like The Mikado. It tries to hard to make me laugh and I become very bored.”

“I agree, it's not my favourite either. The rest of Kingsport must adore it if the The Academy of Music continue putting it on each year. Which is why you must attend. Opening night is the perfect opportunity step back out in Kingsport society now you've returned from London.”

Roy gave a deep velvety smile at his sister knowing he was annoying their mother. “Could we not just make our debut at the McConnells summer picnic on Saturday? Everyone in Kingsport will be there.”

“Hush, Roy. You know we need to do this with the way your fathers business has gone. These outings will provide opportunities, new investments. Yes, you – we will go to the Opera.”

The Academy of Music is a grand auditorium at the centre of Kingsport, built with the help of families like the Gardners. Opening nights were always a popular place to be even if it was the same opera that had played every other year.

Roy and Anne's arrival in Kingsport was kept secret as recommended by Rosanna. The less lead for gossip and speculation in this town, the better. As the Gardner's of London made their entrance ahead of Rosanna and Dorothy a wave of whispers moved about the hall. Necks craned to get a glimpse of the handsome couple move through the crowd pretending not to notice the commotion they had created. It was all expected and was why both would have preferred the smaller gathering at the McConnells to announce they had returned to Kingsport. Rosanna was convinced an outing on Thursday would provide the newspaper gossip sections enough days to confirm rumours the Gardner's only son has returned to Kingsport with his family. They'll be able to note Royal Gardner dressed elegantly in tails and top hat, while his wife Mrs. Anne Gardner looked radiant in a shimmering lavender-green gown.

The attention was expected yet made Anne feel weary. Roy's routinely squeezed her hand as they moved through the crowd Anne reassuring she was not alone. They'd only arrived in Kingsport a three days ago, the swaying ship was still felt under her feet.

Even within the seclusion of the Gardner's box Anne felt the drain of faces looking in their direction. There was continuous whispers and glances and pointing at the couple. Roy and Anne shared strained glances feeling like they were the show not the one on stage.

Rosanna spent the time commenting on familiar and unfamiliar faces in the crowd, indicating who Roy and Anne should become acquainted with.

Anne could tell Roy was barely paying attention as the names rolled on...Mr. Lacon, Miss Denner, Mr. and Mrs. Julien. Anne nodded her head accordingly to let her mother-in-law know she was listening. Roy was not a gossip and Anne knew Dorothy wasn’t one for it either.

“Do you remember Christine Stuart? She has matured beautifully. Look, in Hughes box, opposite.”

Anne's attention turned to the direction Rosanna mentioned, her eyes looking at each of the boxes searching for Gilbert.

“The husband took a position at the University I believe.”

Christine was sitting with a woman and two men, neither of them Gilbert. Was the man whispering in Christine ear the husband Rosanna was referring to? Where was Gilbert? Anne's heart began to beat faster wondering if Christine and Gilbert divorced. The only way a woman could divorce is through admitted adultery. Divorce was rare, uncommon, hard to come by unless there was evidence of unfaithfulness. Anne's skin flushed and prickled with heat. She turned in her seat willing herself to focus on the show.

“I hope we'll see them at the picnic. The Stuarts are well connected and Amhearst is a thriving town these days. They did well starting out there even though your father, god rest his soul, thought Paul Stuart was an idiot ditching Kingsport and investing his business there.”

Perhaps Anne's eyes had betrayed her and it was Gilbert next to Christine. She steals another glance towards the Hughes box. The man is definitely not Gilbert Blythe.

Christine catches Anne's eyes for a moment, a look cold and unfriendly shot across the hall. Anne swallows hard sneaking a glance at her husband and family to see if they noticed. Annes hands grip the fan in her hands, knuckles digging into around the cloth pushing it out of shape.

“I'm feeling a headache come on, may I be excused?” Anne whispers to Roy. He nods then leans to tell his mother who doesn't hide the roll of her eyes.

“Dorothy can go with you, I've been ordered to stay here. I wish headaches were contagious,” he says with a knowing smile.

Anne nods a thank you to Rosanna as she moves from her seat, while Dorothy gives Roy a triumphant smile.

The hall is glowing compared to the darkness of the box as Anne moves along it quickly, eager to for fresh air.

“You do look pale, Anne.”

Anne smiles at Dorothy's comment. “I'm still getting used to the time change. A good sleep should help.”

Dorothy takes Anne's gloved arm, stroking it sympathetically. With arms entwined the two women make their slowly down the stairs.

The doors to the hall are wide open, the cool fresh air could already be felt on Anne's skin was a welcome relief and she took a deep breath as her body neared the exit.


End file.
